


I'm Not Giving Up Yet.

by jamie_loves_fitzsimmons



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: After Hive, Alex Clarke (OC) - Freeform, Amnesia?, Amy/Alex pairing because they're my own creation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, FitzSimmons if you squint, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jemma Simmons - Freeform, Leo Fitz - Freeform, Lincoln Campbell Lives, Lincoln Lives, Minor Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Mommy May - Freeform, OC's - Freeform, Ocs are nosy teenagers, References to Marvels Runaways, StaticQuake, StaticQuake-Centric, Yo-yo, Yo-yo and Mack, but like not, phil coulson - Freeform, some mentions of Lincolns death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 01:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17673854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamie_loves_fitzsimmons/pseuds/jamie_loves_fitzsimmons
Summary: The Lincoln Resurrection Fic we all need right now.It all starts when the two youngest SHIELD agents spot a familiar face; a charismatic Church-goer who is adamant his name is Charlie. Despite all odds the pair can't help but think they may have found their newly-departed team member.The teens aren't ready to give up yet, for Daisy's sake.





	1. Two Teens Hiding In Some Bushes

**Author's Note:**

> *Please bear in mind that my Oc's are only there because I want them to be; the plot is still good regardless. People, me included, normally think the story is going to be Oc-Centric, which I promise it isn't except for the first chapter. This is all about my babies Lincoln and Daisy finding each other again. My Oc's are there because I want to live vicariously through them.*  
> -Jamie x

“That cant be him, Amy. We watched the plane go up in blazes.” Alex whispered to his girlfriend who was peering through a small gap in the greeneries. The other teenager stood up and huffed.

“What if it is him? We cant just let him go, Alex, we can’t.” She said, crossing her arms and defiantly staring at the familiar face, stubble grown out to a beard and hair in the same style. It was him. It had to be him, for the sake of the team. Amy, having joined SHIELD when she tried to take down Mike Peterson at the age of fifteen, was the youngest SHEILD agent to date, and an original bus kid. She was sent on a mission to locate an inhuman-murdering paedophile-she hardly imagined herself falling in love with his inhuman adopted son. 

But, as she said at the time, it really do be like that sometimes.

“Amy, you’re crazy, and I love that, but Lincoln’s dead. Daisy admitted it a long time ago; why can’t you?” He said, wrapping a tentative arm around her, to which she shrugged off.

“Because! If there’s any way he’s alive, I’m gonna take the chance!” The brit said, running out of the hiding place and up to the man. He stopped in his tracks as he saw the teen approach him, a friendly smile on his face.

“Hi, can I help you?” He had the same voice! This had to be him!

“Lincoln?” She gasped, the wind being knocked out of her as Alex ran to Amy. The man shook his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

“My name’s Charlie, sorry.” He said, shrugging his shoulders as the girl’s face dropped. The boy next to her gave her a sad smile before addressing the man.

“Sorry, you…uh…you look like someone we lost. Sorry.” He stumbled, pushing a lock of his blonde hair out of his eyes before dragging his girlfriend away and back to base. The base was buzzing with life, with Mack and yo-yo working on one of the cars as Mack instructed Yo-yo on what to do. FitzSimmons were speaking in science nonsense as the teens walked past with solemn looks on their faces.

“You have to admit he looks just like him!” Amy said, raising her arms above her head as they walked into the lounge.

“It’s a coincidence. Whoever Charlie is, he’s not Lincoln.” Alex said, taking her hand into his tentatively, stroking the back of it comfortingly as Amy sighed, nodding before pulling away at his touch and grabbing a bottle of water. The silence settled like a thick jelly, suffocating everyone in the base. They had only just gotten Daisy back after the man-hunt it took to get her to collaborate. She stayed in her room, unless Coulson had a mission or lead on the watchdogs. Her arms had recovered fully, but it was her heart that had blown to pieces when the ship went up in flames.

There was an emptiness she carried around, a hollow version of herself-as if her whole life had been stripped of her.

Her eyes, once a pool of melted chocolate, were now hardened stone, like a statue’s. She rarely smiled, focusing on training and nothing else. Physically she was in perfect health, but mentally she was breaking. She didn’t get to say so many things-never got to tell him how much she adored him, how much she wanted to spend her life in his company, how he was her home. The static crumpled and the plane burst alight just in time for her to hear his confession-he loved her, he wanted to die for her. Survivors guilt never leaves her; it is a price she doesn’t know how to pay back, how to ever express how angry he has made her. She admits, however, this being Lincoln, that he is too stubborn to ever apologise for the things he did.

“Is there any way Lincoln could be alive?” Amy blurted to Simmons, who had just finished her research for the day. She looked at the girl, sighing loudly before approaching her.

“It would be a miracle even Fitz and I couldn’t explain. I’m sorry, Amy, it’s scientifically impossible.” She said, beginning to walk out the door.

“So was I! Wasn’t that the exact thing you said to Fitz when I was walked onto the Bus? Scientific breakthrough? Coulson was brought back to life!” Amy argued before Simmons tried to argue; it was a good point, with her unique powers she had been gifted through Terrigenisis, she was a breakthrough, but this was a new topic completely.

“This is different! Coulson wasn’t in space hundreds of miles away and then blown to bits! I know you’re dealing with Lincolns death in your own way, you did the same after Trip, but please…drop it.” Simmons said, walking out of the lab and leaving another silence. Amy couldn’t give up, though. Charlie, whoever he thought he was, had to be Lincoln.

Punch. Punch. Duck. Jab. Kick. Punch. Repeat.

She repeats it every day, a rhythm to solve the confusions in her broken heart. With every punch she pretends it’s a needle and thread, sewing up all the fragments of the comical heart inside her. With every repeated punch, duck, jab and kick, she feels lighter. She promises her habit of working until she drops is temporary until she knows how to feel right again, but deep down in her soul she realises this is her new addiction.

Hive had been a strong drug, this was the fix. Working until she was numb. That’s all she really needed in her life; pain and numbness. She wouldn’t admit it, but she wanted more than anything to be taken out by Ghost Rider. When he wouldn’t do it, she almost begged, but remembered she still had a task to live for; the watchdogs. She had to make them pay.

“Daisy?” A voice called out. Punch. Punch. She ignored it, hoping to god she wasn’t about to start hearing him outside of her best dreams. Duck. Jab. Kick. “Daisy.” The voice said again. She couldn’t stop until she was numb, she couldn’t. She wasn’t at the end of her sequence. Her fist came into contact with the punching bag again, and the dance repeated, until a kick came to her gut.

“Fight someone who can hit back.” May said, handing Daisy a drink. She declined, wiping sweat off her lips, the damp taste lingering in her throat. The women sparred, with every dodge and kick, Daisy could feel her stitches she had worked so hard to embroider undoing. Her defences became lousy as she stopped fighting, collapsing to the floor in sobs. May was there in seconds, patting her back in circles and shushing her quietly.

“I know, I know.” She whispered as Daisy shook her head.

“No you don’t.” She cried out, spluttering as another wave of sobs racked her body like an ocean of stormy water.

“No, I don’t.” May admitted, staying with her and holding her close.


	2. Two teens lose their shit over a painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Amy strike a disturbing discovery.

Charlie sat in his bunk, cracking his knuckles thoughtfully. The girl and her companion had stuck in his brain, especially after hearing that name. Who was Lincoln? Whoever it was, it seemed to be pressing a memory somewhere. 

In his bunk, surrounded by runaways and teenagers unknowing of their place in the world, he felt wrong. He felt incomplete. The church had tried their best to help him, claiming the accident had damaged him in more ways than one-they promised him a clean bed and clothes; he would’ve been a fool to decline.

In appreciation of their kindness, he tried to follow their religion-a Christian denomination believing the resurrection of Christ would happen the same way Inhumans got their power-that one lucky follower of the church would be chosen to be his vessel. It could be a monk, it could be a preacher, or even a simple believer. As long as they had a strong enough love for God, he would choose one.

He didn’t believe it at first, but the emptiness disappeared when he began to find God. He felt alive when he was in a service, becoming closer to whatever being was present. He began painting.  
He liked painting daisies.

Alex was sat in his bunk with Amy, his eyes fixed on hers intently. His green eyes stared into her blue as the tension built like a damn, higher and higher until the truth spilled out.

“I’m going back to visit Charlie. I want to know who he is.” She spluttered, her words stumbling out of her mouth before she could even stop them. Her best friend stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief before sighing loudly.

“Well, you’re sure as hell not going alone.” He said, taking his hand and intertwining it with hers, a brief smile and a glint of hope flickering like a dying lightbulb. Like a moth drawn to a flame he gave her a chaste kiss, parting before they resumed playing their game.

“You’re cheating.” He simply said when the tower piece slid out with barely any movement.

“No, I’m adapting.” She slyly replied, smirking as he rolled his eyes and took his go.

“New rule: moving shit with your mind isn’t allowed.”

“Who said I’m moving? I’m just keeping it in place.” Amy innocently smiled as she pushed a lock of her short brown hair out of her eyes. God, she drove him crazy. Even when he was dragged out of his bunk forcefully and ejected into the brisk February night air against his will. They were both suited with layers of clothes, and yet it still felt too cold to function. Luckily when your inhuman ability is pyrokinesis, you become a walking talking heater.

The church was crystal white and pure, some colours of pastels splattered here and there as the two roamed the halls, trying to find someone to talk to and receive information. It was silent; everyone was sleeping-it must’ve been past working hours. Something about the serenity put the teens off: it all seemed to clear-cut and pristine, with not even a single speck of dirt.

There was only two women present behind what must’ve been the reception area. Once again, everything had a place and was neatly organised. Simmons would love this place, Amy had thought as she approached the ladies.

“Hi, we’re looking for a friend, we didn’t see him at work today and we’re a bit worried. Is it possible to see him? His name’s Charlie.” Amy said, putting on a thick American accent to mask her British one. The women glanced at each other before nodding, walking down the hallway and into one of the rooms. With a look at the pair waiting at reception the silent women nodded, signalling for the agents to come closer and walk inside the room.

A man stood with head phones on, painting long strokes onto a canvas outstretched on an easel. He bopped his head in time with the music while dabbing his brush into another colour, contiming his art wordlessly. The sight was a beauty to behold; even more so the nature of what he drew. There were pictures of a bright shimmering figure standing over some worshippers, a couple depicting love scenes, but the most intriguing? The endless amounts of flowers, mostly daisies, painted in different hues of colours, from sunset red to deep sea blue. His room was cramped and almost overpowered by the smell of paint masking the scent he usually carried, even the walls being painted with new designs.

“They’re beautiful.” She breathed, making the man swivel and jump. He clutched a hand to his heart before smiling.

“Scared me. And yeah, they’re…something.” He said, taking a step back in awe of his own work. He looked back at the pair, their images racking in his brain until he found the answer. “you two were at the store, right?” He asked, to which they nodded.

“Why do you draw these?” Alex asked, hands nervously twitching every time he heard the receptionists outside the room. Charlie shrugged before raising his hands towards the sky.

“God gave me a muse. Something about them, their beauty, it just…” He clasped his hands together and smiled “makes me happy.” He said

“We have a friend called Daisy. Daisy Johnson, have you heard that name before?” Amy nervously asked as he shook his head.

“No…not a clue-” He said, before pausing as if he had just found a repressed memory “hang on, yeah! Yeah, I know her!” Their hearts stopped and leapt into their throats.

“You do?” Alex asked, excitement building up

“Of course! She’s the girl of the TV, right? Quake, isn’t it?” He asked, looking so hopeful. He knew he had the wrong impression as the kid’s faces fell in sadness, the hopefulness disintegrating into the floor and leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“Do you…do you mind if I take a picture? Of your art?” Amy asked, taking her phone out. Charlie’s face lit up as if it was Christmas day, nodding enthusiastically as he dug through all the photos, showing his best.

“This one’s a beauty. I had a dream-it was so real-that a woman saved me from death. I never saw her face, only her hands hovering over my chest and bringing me back from the dead. It was my first painting” He proudly announced. Amys blood froze as she saw the painting; hands hovering over his body in a CPR-like move, except from her hands small vibrations were given out, blackness surrounding everything but her. She clicked a photo before dashing out the room. Alex stared in shock before realising his girlfriend had just left.

“Oh…um…thank you.” He gasped, taking off at the same speed, running through the halls with the same reckless abandon Amy had shown. It wasn’t very undercover at all, but the painting was a small piece of confirmation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Amy and Alex will do with the photo? Will Charlie meet Daisy?


	3. The Late-Late Show with FitzSimmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FitzSimmons' plans for a quiet night in their bunk is interrupted by Amy...then Mace and Coulson. All of a sudden, it's 12AM and they're standing in the lab, still.

Fitz and Simmons were about to finish work for the day. For once, they actually had time to themselves-just the two of them, possibly watching a movie in sweet silence; they had worked hard for it, Simmons told herself. Besides, it was what all the couples did-however, Simmons decided it would be best to provide rules so their new relationship didn’t blur the lines between comfort and work.

All meaning, no sleeping together on work nights. Fitz’s face when he was told was hilarious.

“We’ve packed it all away, Jemma.” Fitz boredly said before taking a seat at his desk again.

“No…no, I’m sure we had eleven test tubes, and now we only have ten!” She said, on her hands and knees searching for the missing glass object.

“You’re doing it again.” Fitz stated, watching her head turn to face him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She dismissed, face turning redder as she continued her search for the test tube. Fitz rolled his eyes before continuing his explanation.

“You’re looking for something so you can avoid talking about…something else.” Fitz said, looking towards the glint of her shelves. He reached out and took it in his hand, bringing Simmons up from under her desk. “Look, here it is. What’s happened, Jemma?” She couldn’t tell him a lie, not now, not ever.

“It’s something Amy said.” She explained, watching as Fitz’s face contorted into worry.

“Is she ok?” He asked, and Simmons nodded

“She thinks, for whatever reason, that Lincoln may be alive-and I know what you’re going to say, Fitz, but I’ve never seen her so sure of anything.” Jemma blurted out, watching Fitz intently to see his answer.

“I think it could be feasible.” He simply said, wrapping a comforting arm around her waist as she lent her head on his chest, burying her face into his scent. It smelt like home.

“You do!” Amy barged in, Alex no longer by her side, at this hour, probably in his own bunk. She ran over to where the couple had jumped apart, watching closely as she stuck the phone out to them.

“His name is Charlie-but that’s not the only thing. He paints-like, he paints Daisies. And, he painted this!” An image of the photograph she had taken flashed on the screen, which displayed his happy face showing the teens the painting. “He said a woman saved him from death-remember when that happened? Daisy restarted his heart and saved him! This has to be him!” Amy said, hope spilling out of her as the scientists looked at her phone. They glanced at each other before looking back at the girl.

“Get Coulson. And, perhaps, Mace.” Fitz said, rubbing his eyes tiredly before examining the photo once more.

“Shouldn’t Daisy know too?” Simmons asked curiously, just after Amy had left to wake Coulson and the Director. Fitz shook his head and bit his lip in thought.

“If this isn’t what we think it is-it’ll just upset her.” He reasoned, watching her face turn to the door.

“Well, that’s the last thing I want right now. We only just got her back.” She said, scribbling down some reminder on a post-it note before sighing, deep in thought. Mace and Coulson came storming into the lab in relatively casual wear-seeing as it was 10pm.

“Sir, we think there’s evidence to suggest Lincoln survived.” Fitz explained as he turned to the two other gentlemen, pointing to the phone.

“Lincoln? Lincoln Campbell?” Mace asked, staring at the picture.  
“When was this taken?” Coulson asked, zooming in on Charlies face. Amy stepped forward, fists clenched nervously.

“I-I took it. I…went alone. I saw him at the store-he thinks his name is Charlie. A-and he lives in a church. He doesn’t remember us.” She stammered, trying to cover for Alex while at the same time giving the whole truth.

“FitzSimmons, is this possible?” Mace asked, looking towards the puzzled scientists. They turned their heads in unison before Simmons spoke up.

“Well, maybe Hive spared him?” She asked.

“Or that guy is Hive?” Fitz counteracted, to which Simmons nodded.  
“He was peaceful, though-he just drew and talked about God.” Amy objected, to which FitzSimmons seemed to draw out their theories along with five other unspoken ones.

“Could he have created a magnetic field around himself that was so strong it repelled all the debris and fire?” Simmons asked as she turned to Fitz, who shook his head.

“He would still be in the vast emptiness of space, then. He wouldn’t be able to re-enter the atmosphere without help from a ship.” Fitz concluded, running a thumb against his lip in deep concentration.

“Agent Simmons get to work on this-track any satellites reporting of suspicious behaviour. Amy, I don’t want you snooping around on this anymore. This case is now level orange classified.” Mace said, automatically earning a scoff from the teenager. “that’s an order, Storm. You’ll be demoted if you disobey.” He barked as the girl bowed her head, teeth gritted as she forced herself to comply. She walked out the room calmly, leaving the others behind.

“I say we-” Fitz began, turning back to his computer before being interrupted.

“No, Agent Fitz. This applies to you too. You’re level Blue, therefore, this is even more classified than it was to Agent Storm. I’m sorry.” He sounded so ingenuine when he said it, so cocky, that Fitz was forced to take a breath before faking a smile and leaving the room, hoping Jemma would follow after him shortly.

“Agent Simmons-how is this possible? Coulson assured me Hive had been destroyed on that Quinjet, now the only crew member survives?” Mace was pacing, Simmons noted. Coulson never paced-he always displayed a calm and collected manner when addressing agents; he believed if he was calm the answer would piece together better. The dull thud of boots on the floor made it impossible to concentrate as Jemma closed her eyes, trying to shake the dread she felt.

Hive could still be living-Lincoln, also. But they had grieved, they had mourned and cried and laughed together at his funeral. Why now, was he seemingly fine? Why now had he resurfaced like a reopened wound? The jigsaw pieces just wouldn’t fit together in her mind, no matter how hard she so desperately attempted to see the logic. Her nails tapped on her keyboard that she had placed herself on, searching up any thing remotely related to Lincoln.

Satellites. Search the satellites. Sure, Jemma wasn’t as skilled as Daisy, but she didn’t need to be; she was one of the most trusted members of S.H.I.E.L.D which meant she had perks; access to the eyes and ears of the world. Rewinding it to that fateful minute on that fateful day, she watched the screens with a steel stare, Mace’s repetitive steps fading away as she focused solely on the starry sky the feed was showing.

Black. Why did it go black? Furrowing her eyebrows, Jemma clicked to the next feed. And the next. And the next until she clasped a hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp. Her eyes widened as her pulse quickened, her left hand gripping the desk until her knuckles turned white.

It couldn’t…how? Why? Why were all 3,000 satellites down at the exact second, the exact millisecond the Quinjet hurtled past, showing Lincoln and Hive powerless to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! Sorry I've been gone, I've been trying to avoid Season 6 Spoilers like they're the plague, plus, I have my final exams.  
> A week left till I'm done with Secondary School woo!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave Kudos and Comment! I always love to hear your opinions!  
> Love, Jamie x


End file.
